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Updated: June 18, 2025
It would have made my story much better to have begun with telling you, that at the time my mother's arms were added to the Shandy's, when the coach was re-painted upon my father's marriage, it had so fallen out that the coach-painter, whether by performing all his works with the left hand, like Turpilius the Roman, or Hans Holbein of Basil or whether 'twas more from the blunder of his head than hand or whether, lastly, it was from the sinister turn which every thing relating to our family was apt to take it so fell out, however, to our reproach, that instead of the bend-dexter, which since Harry the Eighth's reign was honestly our due a bend-sinister, by some of these fatalities, had been drawn quite across the field of the Shandy arms.
"She let me read it," said G. Selden, taking the letter from its envelope with great care. "And I said to her: 'Miss Vanderpoel, would you let me just show that to the boys the first night I go to Shandy's? I knew she'd tell me if it wasn't all right to do it. She'd know I'd want to be told. And she just laughed and said: 'I don't mind at all. I like "the boys." Here is a message to them.
This, Pasquale said, represented "una citta qualunque." The collection of little wooden houses on Captain Shandy's bowling-green was not a more perfect Proteus of a town than Pasquale's back cloth. This evening it was Barcelona. In front of it, about halfway to the footlights, was a low wall of fortifications.
Shandy could not be made to talk more like himself than Burton talked like him, it was artistically lawful to put Burton's exact words into Mr. Shandy's mouth. It makes a difference, it may be said, that Sterne is not here speaking in his own person, as he is in his Sermons, but in the person of one of his characters. This casuistry, however, does not seem to me to be sound.
Throughout this volume there are manifest signs of Sterne's unceasing interest in his own creations, and of his increasing consciousness of creative power. Captain Toby Shandy is but just lightly sketched-in the first volume, while Corporal Trim has not made his appearance on the scene at all; but before the end of the second we know both of them thoroughly, within and without. Indeed, one might almost say that in the first half-dozen chapters which so excellently recount the origin of the corporal's fortification scheme, and the wounded officer's delighted acceptance of it, every trait in the simple characters alike yet so different in their simplicity of master and of man becomes definitely fixed in the reader's mind. And the total difference between the second and the first volume in point of fulness, variety, and colour is most marked. The artist, the inventor, the master of dialogue, the comic dramatist, in fact, as distinct from the humorous essayist, would almost seem to have started into being as we pass from the one volume to the other. There is nothing in the drolleries of the first volume in the broad jests upon Mr. Shandy's crotchets, or even in the subtler humour of the intellectual collision between these crotchets and his brother's plain sense to indicate the kind of power displayed in that remarkable colloquy
On a late-summer evening in New York the atmosphere surrounding a certain corner table at Shandy's cheap restaurant in Fourteenth Street was stirred by a sense of excitement.
He had taken a notion to gallop kindly while accompanied by Lucretia and Lauzanne; worked alone he sulked and was as awkward as a broncho of the plains. Also he disliked Carter seemed to associate his personality with that of Shandy's. Mike's discontent over the hitch spread to John Porter. It was too bad; the horses had been doing so well. For three days Diablo had no gallop.
But my brother's child, cried my uncle Toby, has nothing to do with the Pope 'tis the plain child of a Protestant gentleman, christen'd Tristram against the wills and wishes both of his father and mother, and all who are a-kin to it. If the wills and wishes, said Kysarcius, interrupting my uncle Toby, of those only who stand related to Mr. Shandy's child, were to have weight in this matter, Mrs.
Shandy's was "about all right," they said to each other, and patronised it accordingly, three or four of them generally dining together, with a friendly and adroit manipulation of "portions" and "half portions" which enabled them to add variety to their bill of fare.
Mike tried to secure a boy in the Brookfield neighborhood to ride Diablo in his work, but Shandy's evil tongue wagged so blatantly about the horse's bad temper that no lad could be found to take on in the stables. Ned Carter might have ridden Diablo at work, but the big Black was indeed a horse of many ideas.
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